


Painkillers

by rileywrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drugged Stiles, Happy Ending, M/M, Painkillers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileywrites/pseuds/rileywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn’t do well under the influence of painkillers. He gets truthful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painkillers

Stiles wakes to sunlight streaming through the windows of the loft and the smell of coffee and antiseptic— the usual after the latest big bad has been taken care of.

The fact that this is no longer weird is weird.

He whines and buries his face in a pillow that smells like Derek.

Speaking of Derek— where is he?

"How’re you feeling?"

Stiles would jump out of his skin, if the rest of him didn’t hurt so bad.

"Like I got hit by a truck."

"Manticore, but you’re close." Derek pokes him in the ear until he sits up, and hands him a glass of water and a couple of pills. "Painkillers and your Adderall."

Stiles downs it carefully. “Thanks.”

"What do you remember? You were hit pretty bad."

_"I can’t remember anything about last night except that everything hurt."_

Derek frowns. “Really?”

"Well, I remember setting the trap, and the beast charging me, and the impact— and here we are."

"You don’t remember anything else?" Derek sounds— almost frantic, in a very Hale kind of way. Restrained emotion.

Stiles runs a hand through his hair before realizing he’s super-bruised on his head, too.

"I… I don’t. I’m pretty sure I passed out pretty hard, man. I don’t know what you’re looking for—"

Derek stands and walks toward the window, staring outside. “You said some shit while Deaton put you back together— it doesn’t matter, forget it.”

Stiles wracks his still-addled brain for something, anything, that will explain the sudden whatever-the-fuck Derek is feeling.

_"Der’_ _k… lemme go, m’fn.”_

_"Shut up, Stiles," Derek spits out, his arms around Stiles’ shoulders. "Let Deaton fix you. Your internal organs are one good sneeze away from being on the ground."_

_"Hah, says you." Stiles settles anyway. "God, I love you."_

Stiles nearly chokes on his water as the memory comes floating from the depths of his mind.

"Shit. Shit, I’m sorry. That was— there are lines, and I shouldn’t have—"

Derek crosses the room in a millisecond. “You remember?”

"Shit yeah, I remember. I’m so fucking—"

Derek’s hand is over his mouth. “Apologize one more time and I finish what the manticore started.”

Stiles does not ‘meep.’ He is a man.

(He meeps.)

He nods slowly, Derek’s hand still over his mouth.

"Did you mean it?"

He nods again, eyes like saucers.

Derek releases him, paces toward the window and back again.

"I love you too, you absolute idiot. Don’t scare me like that again."

Whaddaya know? Stiles has just enough strength to drag Derek in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [ here. ](rileyrises.tumblr.com)


End file.
